My Funny Valentine Read online

  “Oh, whatever!” Julia says. “You can’t get your work done because you spend all your time playing fantasy football.”

  “Pipe it, woman!” He glances around the room apprehensively. “The boss is around here somewhere.”

  Renee laughs. “You two. You bicker worse than siblings.”

  Dillon is quiet. He hasn’t been overly friendly to me since I got Julia into a couple of rather sticky situations during all of my amateur sleuthing. Those days are in the past, though. I’m coming up on one year free and clear of dead bodies and murder investigations, and I couldn’t be happier.

  Suddenly, Blake’s grip on my hand goes tight. I look up at him and notice he’s staring toward the entry hall. His brother has just arrived with a strikingly beautiful woman. Blake has become very still. That’s never a good sign.

  I say to the group, “Thanks for coming tonight, you guys. We have to go mingle, but we’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

  Our friends chorus their congratulations, and I pull Blake aside. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  Before he can respond, his brother Luke approaches us, seeming hesitant, his date practically hiding behind him. This has more family drama written all over it.

  “Blake, Lizzie. Hello,” Luke says stiffly, holding out his hand to his brother.

  Blake doesn’t let go of me to take his hand. In fact, he’s now close to cutting off the circulation in my fingers. “What’s she doing here?” is his response.

  I have no idea what’s going on, but I don’t like it.

  Luke darts a glance behind him at his companion. “Can we speak privately, Blake?”

  Blake growls, “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Lizzie.”

  Grimacing, Luke says quietly, “Aubrey is here because she’s with me. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months.”

  Shit, shit, shit! Aubrey is the woman who left Blake at the altar, and now she’s dating his brother?!? The appetizers I ate earlier start churning in my stomach when I think about what this is going to do to Blake. My worry, however, is overshadowed by my urge to punch Aubrey in her stupid pouty lips.

  Blake drops my hand. “This is low, even for you, Luke. And to tell me at my own engagement party after showing up two hours late?”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I should tell you over the phone…” Luke tries to put his hand on Blake’s shoulder, but Blake roughly shrugs him off.

  “I need some air,” Blake mutters, taking off for the door to the patio, leaving the three of us in a stunned silence.

  Aubrey comes forward to stand beside Luke and offers her hand to me. “Hi, Lizzie. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  I make no move to shake her hand. I am in no mood to play nice anymore. “Sorry, but I can’t say the same. You know, we’ve had our fill of unnecessary angst tonight already. Please don’t add to it.”

  “I—I didn’t mean to—” Luke stammers.

  “Whether you did or you didn’t, bringing Blake’s runaway bride as your date to his engagement party was a dick move, Luke, and I think you know that. Maybe it would be best for all of us if you two left. Maybe he’ll be ready to talk about this tomorrow.”

  Luke is staring at me, no doubt dumbstruck by my rude comment.

  Bristling, Aubrey says, “You can’t throw Luke out of a party his parents are hosting.”

  “Wanna bet? I’ve got several burly friends here, a couple of whom are cops.” And I would delight in throwing Aubrey out on her bony butt myself.

  They both glare at me. Luke says, “We’ll let Mother know we’re no longer welcome here, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  “Knock yourself out.”

  As they stalk away from me, I could swear I hear Aubrey say something about a “redneck slut.” Whatever. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.

  Pleased with myself for finally getting to meet and tell that bitch Aubrey off in the same few minutes, I’m suddenly starving. I spy my co-worker Bethany McCool. She has a handsome server holding a tray of tasty looking desserts cornered over by the window. I head over, intent on filling my face.

  I choose a miniature pecan pie from his tray and stuff it in my mouth. I mumble, “Hi, Bethany, thanks for coming to the party.” There was a time when Bethany would have come to my engagement party with the sole intention of ruining it. Not now though. We’re past that.

  “Lizzie, hi!” she cries, grabbing onto the guy’s arm, causing him to bobble the tray and nearly spill his entire collection of pastries all over me. He manages to right the tray in time and gives me an apologetic smile. It wouldn’t have been the first time Bethany ruined a dress of mine. She doesn’t even notice, going on unfazed, “I want you to meet Bret Howell. Bret, this is my best friend, Lizzie Hart. Bret and I were just having the most interesting conversation about how the Liberty Chronicle couldn’t run without me.” (I need to point out here that this is not even remotely true.) Bethany looks up expectantly at him. “Weren’t we, Bret?”

  “Um…yes, ma’am,” he says. His eyes, however, are saying, “Get me away from this crazy woman!”

  Poor guy. I take pity on him and decide to put him out of his misery. “Sounds like a great discussion, you two, but the, um…head caterer lady asked me to find Bret and send him to the kitchen immediately. She said something about having a croquembouche emergency only he could fix.”

  “Oh, that sounds serious,” Bethany breathes.

  Bret mouths a “thank you” to me and begins to take off for the kitchen.

  Bethany cries, “Wait, Bret, I didn’t get your number,” and lunges for him.

  I don’t have any idea how, but I manage to get caught between the two of them. Bethany has evidently forgotten about the glass of red wine in her hand, and as she’s reaching for the back of Bret’s jacket, her glass starts coming straight at me. The whole scene screeches into slow motion before me, because what’s going to happen is inevitable. The glass tips and the wine flows out, splashing the red liquid down the entire front of my lovely new green dress. Why the hell not? Everything else has gone wrong tonight.

  Bethany’s hand flies to her mouth. “Oh, no, Lizzie. I am so sorry. You know that was an accident, right?” Her buggy eyes are practically bulging out of her head in horror as she awkwardly blots at my dress with her napkin.

  Bret has fled without so much as a backward glance toward us.

  I sigh. “I know it was an accident. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Good. Because I would never do that to you…well, not anymore. We’re besties now.” She lowers her voice. “Hey, since you seem to know the head caterer, do you think you could get her to give me Bret’s number?”

  Sometimes it’s more difficult being Bethany’s friend than her enemy.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I need to go change clothes.”

  “Right.” She looks down at my dress thoughtfully. “Well, it’s no loss. That dress doesn’t really do anything for you anyway. It’s kind of old lady-ish, and the color washes out your skin tone.”

  I can’t even. “Okay, then. I’ll see you later.” I hurry straight up to Blake’s room, keeping my head down in hopes no one will engage me in another excruciating conversation.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I didn’t bring another fancy dress, so I have nothing else to put on besides jeans and a sweater. Blake’s mom will have a conniption when she sees me, but at this point, I don’t give a crap. Besides, it’s time for me to go outside to check on Blake, and I’m happy to have on some warmer clothes. I grab a blanket, figuring we’ll be outside a while. A situation like this isn’t going to be hashed out in a quick conversation.

  I know where he’s going to be. After slogging two hundred yards downhill, I find him in the gazebo looking out across the lake that butts up against the western edge of his property.

  “You changed,” he says.

  I look down at my clothes. “Yeah. To cap the night off, Bethany poured a glass of red wine on my dress.”

&n
bsp; He shakes his head. “Par for the course tonight.”

  “Something like that.” I go over and sit next to him on the double chaise lounge. I put my hand over his, which is like ice. I drape the blanket over the two of us and take both of his hands in mine to warm them.

  After a moment, he says, “I don’t know if I can forgive my brother for this.”

  “I’m sure you two can work it out at some point. It might take a while.”

  “And why in the hell would Aubrey agree to come with him? Didn’t she realize her presence would be unwanted and only cause trouble?”

  “Judging from my first impression of her, I’m thinking she didn’t care. The woman is a total uptight bitch.”

  He smiles just a little. “Yeah, I can’t remember why I started dating her in the first place.”

  “She’s hot. That was probably why.”

  Blake chuckles, but then his face falls quickly. “I also don’t know how I’m going to go back inside and not slug my brother.”

  I grin at him. “Um, that won’t be a problem.”

  Wrinkling his brow, he asks, “Why is that?”

  “I had a little heart-to-heart with the two of them.”

  His face brightens. “Are you telling me you asked them to leave?” He seems impressed.

  “My language was a bit more colorful than that, but yes.”

  “You know my mother is going to kill you, right?”

  I shrug. “I’m not scared of her. I figure I could take your mom in a fair fight.”

  A grin spreads across his entire face. “I love you.”

  “I know. I love you, too.”

  He wraps both arms around me and lays us both back on the chaise lounge. He kisses me, and one thing leads to another…and now I’m really glad I brought that blanket.

  ***

  Afterward, we lay holding each other for a while, talking about everything except the craziness of tonight. I know, though, that we should be getting back to the party.

  “Blake, I hate to broach the subject, because this part of tonight is absolutely perfect, but we should probably think about heading inside.”

  He nips at my earlobe. “You mean we should take our little party to the bedroom?”

  I giggle. “No, I mean we should probably go back and tell everyone goodnight. Our guests will be starting to leave soon. You know people from Liberty don’t like to stay out late.”

  “So if I can round up our guests and tell them to get the hell out of my house, I can have you all to myself?”

  “Your logic is good, but the execution of your plan may need a little tweaking.”

  He chuckles as we get our clothes back on and climb the hill back to the house. As we come up to the patio area, I notice a figure sitting slumped against the back side of the rock wall next to the pool. It’s too dark to tell who it is, but it seems to be a man.

  I point to the person and whisper to Blake, “Hey, who would be out here, besides us that is, during the party?”

  “I don’t know, but I can’t say I blame him.” Blake raises his voice, addressing the man. “Hey, there. Everything okay?”

  The man doesn’t respond or move.

  “You think he got tanked and had to sleep it off?” I ask.

  “That would be my guess,” Blake replies, then his eyes widen. “Holy shit, that’s Mayor Taggart.”

  “No way! The mayor of all people passed out at your mom’s fancy party? Call me awful, but this just totally made my day. I wonder if he made a scene inside.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him. We should see if we can wake him up.”

  A mischievous grin pulls at my mouth. “Or, while he’s out, we could pose him in funny positions and take pictures.”

  He laughs. “Tempting, but no. Come on, help me get him to his feet.”

  Mayor Taggart is not a small man. Blake and I each take one of the mayor’s arms and hoist him onto his feet. He’s completely dead weight. “Blake, I don’t think I can drag him inside. He’s not going to be able to help at all in the state he’s in.”

  “I’ll get him.” Blake bends down and loads the mayor onto his back in a fireman’s carry.

  “Don’t hurt yourself.”

  Blake gets halfway across the patio and stops, choking out, “He’s even heavier than he looks.” He deposits the mayor onto a wicker chair. “You know, maybe we should wake him up before we take him inside. Letting people see him like this could ruin his reputation.”

  Just when I think I can’t love Blake any more, he does something like this. I can’t say I would be so kind to my enemies. I pat him on the back. “You’re a good man, Blake Morgan.” Something wet on the back of his jacket transfers to my hand. I take a look at my hand and ask, “What’s on your—” I suck in a breath as I realize what’s all over my hand. “Blake, this is blood! Are you hurt?”

  “No.” He removes his jacket to get a better look at it. “What the hell?” He has some on his hands as well. “Where did this come from?”

  Deep down, my gut knows the answer, but I refuse to let my mind believe it. I watch Blake shift his focus to Mayor Taggart sprawled lifelessly in the chair. He puts his fingers on the mayor’s neck and grimaces.

  I moan, “No, no, no, no, no! Not again. Don’t even say it!”

  “He’s dead.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “I told you not to say it!” I cry.

  “That wouldn’t make him any less dead,” Blake replies matter-of-factly.

  I shake my head vehemently. “I’m not doing this again. No freaking way. We’re going to sneak upstairs, wash off the blood, burn our clothes, and let someone else find his dead ass. I’ve paid my dues in the finding dead people department. No more.”

  He gives me a sympathetic smile. “I would love to be able to do that, but we can’t. He died at our engagement party, at my house. We’re eyeball deep in this already, besides the fact that we literally have his blood on our hands.”

  “Damn it. I hate it when you bring logic into things,” I huff.

  Leaning down, he gives me a kiss on the forehead. “Just like at the party, we’ll get through this together. Okay?”

  “Tonight really sucks.”

  He smiles. “You can say that again.”

  “Who would want to kill the mayor, anyway?”

  “Are you kidding? There was probably a line. The guy pisses somebody off on a daily basis. Who knows? Maybe he was getting handsy with one of the ladies. He’s known to be quite a dirty old man, you know.”

  “Eww.” I pull my phone out of my pocket with my non-bloody hand and dial my cousin Becca’s cell number.

  Blake asks, “What are you doing? We need to go find Harrison and Johnson and get them out here.”

  “I know, but I think it’s a bad idea for us to go inside covered in blood. I’m calling Becca. She can round them up for us,” I explain.

  Becca answers, “Where in the hell have you been? Everyone’s looking for you. Seriously bad manners to ditch your own party, cousin.” Becca certainly never pulls any punches.

  “Never mind that. Is Jack with you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Can you have him grab William and meet Blake and me out by the pool?”

  “Why do you—”

  I look down at the dead mayor, and my voice begins to waver. “Can you just get them please?”

  “Okay,” she replies uncertainly.

  I end the call quickly and shove my phone back into my pocket. I know how horribly long the questioning is going to take, and I simply don’t have the energy in me to do it.

  Blake comes over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I want more than anything to be able to hold you right now, but I don’t want to transfer any more blood onto you. I love you, and I don’t want you to stress.”

  I smile. “Thanks. I’ll be fine. I’m an old pro at this, remember?”

  Before he can respond, LPD Detectives Jack Harrison and William Johnson exit the house and step out onto the patio. />
  “What’s going on, guys?” Jack asks.

  William, who I’ve known since pre-school, has his eyes trained on the mayor’s still body. “Aw, Lizzie, come on. Not again.”

  “You know, I don’t go looking for dead people,” I snap.

  “Yet they always seem to know how to find you,” he replies.

  “Can it, you two,” Jack says, going over to check for the mayor’s pulse. After a moment, he shakes his head and gets out his phone. “I’ll call this in. Johnson, you take Lizzie’s statement. I’ll take Blake’s.”

  William leads me over to the far side of the patio, out of earshot of Blake and Jack. I’d been through this before. The police never want you to listen to another witness’s statement so you don’t get swayed by their story or add their thoughts to your story, blah, blah, blah. I tell William the whole sad tale, minus the sex in the gazebo part, mainly because it feels weird to talk about that with someone I’d grown up with.

  He takes notes on everything I say. After I finish my statement, he regards me seriously. “Lizzie, I’m only going to say this once: do not under any circumstances take it upon yourself to investigate this death.”

  “I’m certainly not planning to. It’s not like I enjoy it.”

  “Really? You could have fooled me.”

  I glare at him in response.

  “Oh, lighten up.” He looks down at my hands. “I’m going to have the crime scene unit process you. Don’t wash your hands or remove any items of clothing.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  His brow furrows. “Wait a minute. You weren’t wearing jeans at your engagement party. Where’s your dress?”

  “Someone spilled red wine on me. It’s upstairs in Blake’s bathroom, drying out.”

  “You sure it’s red wine and not blood?”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “Are you insinuating—”

  “Come on. It’s just a little gallows humor. I think I hear our backup coming, so I’m going to have you sit tight for now. We’ll have to do a little creative crowd control to make sure none of your guests freak out over the mob of law enforcement personnel about to descend on this place.”